


With A Little Help from My (Sorta) Friends

by BazzyBelle



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Baz Pitch Has Good Friends, Canon Divergent, Communication, Dev Grimm cares about Baz Pitch, Dev Grimm has a soft heart, Dev Grimm is a chaos demon, Dev Grimm is a good friend, Gen, I mean it's kinda obvious, In which we are ALL either Dev or Penny, Lack of Communication, Learning how to communicate, Let Baz Pitch Have Friends, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious Simon Snow, POV Simon Snow, Panic Attacks, Penelope Bunce is a Good Friend, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Punching, Sad with a Happy Ending, Simon Snow Loves Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Gay for Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Loves Simon Snow, but you know, our boys like to stress us out, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25776664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazzyBelle/pseuds/BazzyBelle
Summary: Simon thinks Baz should get over him. He's not good enough for him.But maybe all he needs to change his perspective, is just a little help from his friends.Or, perhaps, a friend he never expected.
Relationships: Dev & Simon Snow, Dev & Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Penelope Bunce & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 27
Kudos: 147





	With A Little Help from My (Sorta) Friends

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to write a story like this for a very long time. 
> 
> It posed quite a few challenges for me... I mean these are two characters that would not have this conversation, so I needed to be creative and think of ways to make it work. 
> 
> It was a lot of fun to do this character study (can I call it that?) of both these characters. 
> 
> Thank you to [Fool Of A Book Wyrm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafeli85) and [AbbyNormalJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbynormalj/pseuds/abbynormalj) for reading my snippets and encouraging me to continue. Also for your support with this fic and for doing the many writing sprints with me, while I worked to finish this thing. And for helping me with the summary and tags. 
> 
> Also many thinks to my amazing betas [TBazzSnow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artescapri) and [Giishu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giishu) for being so incredible, and for taking the time to read through my story and always offering ways to improve and pointing out things that I miss. 
> 
> Love you all.

**SIMON**

I don’t know what I’m expecting from this.

I received a message a few days ago from Baz’s mobile, asking me to grab a coffee with him at this tiny cafe near the University. We would come here often, in between my classes (when I was still going to class). I haven’t been back in months (I haven’t really been anywhere) (except America), and I wonder if this even is a good idea. 

I haven’t spoken to him. In weeks. We got back from our “holiday” in America (if you could call it that), and there was the emergency at Watford, which took up a lot of time. During which, his father demanded he come home and deal with the repercussions of our trip. That was the last time I spoke to him. He didn’t want to go home, he wanted to stay with me. He asked me if I remembered what he said to me in San Diego. 

I didn’t answer him. 

I did remember. I just chose not to think about his words. 

I chose to push them as deep down as I possibly could, and focus my attention on more time-sensitive matters. Like the trouble at Watford, and helping Penny figure out ancient demonic curses. 

It was better for him this way. He would find some other way to be happy without me. 

He told me that would never happen.

He’s wrong. He just… he doesn’t know it yet. Or he’s too stubborn to admit it. 

I didn’t answer him then. I left the question of San Diego lingering in the air, between us. Baz tried to grab my hand, but I pulled away. I can still hear the waver in his voice before he walked away. 

“You know where to find me, Simon. Whenever you're ready.”

That was over a month ago. The issue at Watford was settled, and Penny and I went back home. 

But I never went to see him. Didn’t text him. Didn’t call him. I figured it was better to just leave it be, as it is. He’d get the picture and move on. It would be better in the end. He’d understand that in time. 

Despite all of this, I can’t stop thinking about him. Why do I feel this gaping hole in my chest every time I wake up? Why do I feel as if the Humdrum was back, sucking everything from within me?

Why do I feel a small flutter in my chest when I see his message? (Even if it’s followed immediately with dread and fear).

_ We need to talk. Meet me at Cafe Adonis Saturday at 2. _

I look a right mess, I realise. My hair’s messy, and I’ve got bags under my eyes (haven’t been sleeping). My clothes are rumpled and my jeans have holes in them. All just reminding me why I’m walking away from Baz in the first place. All the better to remind him of why I’m doing what I’m doing. 

I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. I imagine he’ll want an explanation from me, as to why I’ve been ghosting him (or attempting to anyway). 

My leg’s been bouncing uncontrollably since I got here (15 minutes ago) (it isn’t like Baz to be this late to something). I’ve been tapping my fingers on the table top and picking at my nails nervously. I think I might text him, asking him where he is, when someone clears their throat. 

My mouth drops, and I’m frozen at the table, because the person who’s just joined me is not Baz. In fact, it is someone I would never expect to want to have anything to do with me, let alone sit down with me for a coffee. 

“Hello, Snow,” Dev says casually, as he slides effortlessly into the chair in front of me. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

I glare at him. What the fuck could Dev-fucking-Grimm want from me?

He’s looking at me, his lips curling into a small smile. Crowley, I fucking can’t stand this guy. I know he’s Baz’s cousin, but he’s just such a bloody wanker. 

“What the fuck are  _ you _ doing here, Dev?”

Dev stretches his arms behind his head and simply shrugs. I should get up and walk away from him. I start to get up, when a barista places two cups of coffee (a flat white, and an espresso) in front of us, as well as a scone for myself and an almond croissant for Dev. I frown at him. 

“Seriously, Dev… I am not here to fuck around. What do you want?”

“Crowley, Snow. I would have thought you’d accept my small peace offering for dragging you out here, but you’re as paranoid as ever.”

He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles. “I do love the coffee here. Niall doesn’t understand how I can drink this stuff. It’s too strong for him. He prefers to taste as little coffee as possible.”

I shake my head. It reminds me of Baz and his candy bar coffee drinks. He’s got a whole set up in his flat to prepare any kind of latte or macchiato or whatever other sugary monstrosity his heart desires. He once offered to make me his version of that pumpkin breve drink he’s so crazy about, but I refused. 

I refused a lot of things from him. 

Dev clears his throat and I’m brought back to our conversation. I should be less annoyed with him than I am, but being snapped away from my thoughts only reminds me of how far Baz and I have drifted from each other. 

I move my cup around and frown into my coffee. 

“He and Baz have that in common. It’s frustrating to go out with them, because I want to try different roasts, yet all they want to drink is sug-”

I slam my hands onto the table and glare up at Dev. I don’t do small talk! I never liked it. Wasting time on chatter that doesn’t matter. 

“Is Baz even coming?! Or is this all a fucking joke?’”

Dev quirks an eyebrow at me (fucking Grimms… Is that where Baz gets it from?), and slowly places his cup back down on the table. He breaks off a small piece of his croissant and pops it into his mouth. 

I fucking hate how calm he is, but he clearly could not care less, because he hasn’t acknowledged my question. 

That must mean that Baz isn’t coming, and that it’ll just be me and Dev today. 

“Okay, Dev, clearly you want something from me. Just fucking say what it is, so we can both get on with our lives?”

“You know, I would have expected that you would be a little more grateful that I’m feeding you. Baz did mention that you love your scones.”

I glare at him, “Baz put you up to this?”

Dev takes another bite of his croissant, and rolls his eyes. 

“He doesn’t even know I’m here, Snow. I stole his mobile a few days ago and sent you the message behind his back. Figured you would only come meet up if you thought it was him messaging you.”

I push the scone back at him and get up from the table. I want nothing more than to beat the ever living shit out him right now. I feel so fucking stupid! Of course, Baz wouldn’t want to come meet with me out of the blue! I made it quite clear to him that I needed some space and time away from him. 

I stand next to Dev, my shoulders squared, and my chin jutting out. Family of Baz’s or not, I want to make sure that Dev Grimm stays out of my fucking business and doesn’t try this shit again. Dev keeps his eyes away from me, pretending not to notice that I’m hovering in front of him. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are, meddling in my life?!”

Dev wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands up to face me. He’s a little shorter than I am, but he’s got broad shoulders, and is pretty filled out. More so than when we were back at Watford. It looks like he’s been working out. He crosses his own arms over his chest and gives me an icy stare. 

“Listen here, Snow. I am not doing this for  _ your _ benefit, or to meddle in your affairs. I frankly could not give a shit about what you do with your life.” He points a finger at me, but I swat it away. One of the baristas seems to be staring at us in concern. I really don’t want to start a fight right here in this little cafe, but if Dev insists to have a tussle, I am more than happy to take this outside. 

“I am here because Baz is like a brother to me. And don’t roll your eyes at me, Snow, it’s not as charming as Baz makes it out to be.”

_ Prick _ .

“Baz is my brother, and for the past year or so, he’s lost his edge, his  _ fire _ .”

That makes me lower my shoulders. And pull back from Dev’s space. He doesn’t look happy right now. In fact, he’s damn near glaring daggers at me. My worst fears about Baz have come true. I’m hurting him. It hurt him just to be with me. I was never good for him at all. 

Fuck, how obvious has it been, if  _ Dev _ has noticed? Has everyone in his family noticed? Are they all waiting for the chance to get at me? I’d deserve whatever they’d do to me. 

Dev clears his throat, “Now, you can leave if you want. I’m not going to stop you, and honestly I think Baz would kill me for even meeting with you, let alone keeping you here against your will. And so, as much as I want to throttle you right now… I know how much you mean to Baz, so I’d just like to talk.”

I shake my head, “There is nothing to talk about, Dev. And why on earth would I talk to  _ you  _ of all people?”

He shrugs, “You have nothing to lose with me. I’m not going to go back to Baz with any of this, because he’d likely set me on fire for messaging you in the first place. Plus, I don’t give a fuck about you so I won’t be mothering you like your annoying sidekick, Bunce.”

I hate to admit it, but he’s got a point there. Already, Penny has been giving me not-so-subtle hints to call Baz or text him (saying things like “you know who would love to watch a movie with us?  _ Basil!”  _ or “you know who loves watching football matches?  _ Basil! _ ”). I haven’t spoken to Penny about any of this. I don’t even know if she’s kept in touch with Baz since we got home (I assume she has, judging by the sad look on her face, whenever she picks up her mobile). 

Dev sits back down and picks up his coffee again. He takes a sip and smiles. “Still warm, thank Crowley.” 

He turns back to me, “Look Snow, I may be just a smarmy arsehole, but I do want Baz to be happy. And it’s  _ you _ that makes him happy. So, you can either sit down and help me understand the issues between you and my cousin, or you can walk out that door and continue meandering around aimlessly. Choice is yours.”

He’s such an arsehole. He really doesn’t need to go for the lowest blow, yet he does it without hesitation. Does he really expect me to just sit down and have a lovely chat like we’re old chums catching up? 

We barely spoke at Watford, when he wasn’t being an absolute tool. I think the only time he ever showed any bit of personality was the time in Eighth Year, when Baz had gone missing. Dev had been anxious, frightened, and never wanted to go anywhere without Niall. The few times I’d cornered him, he was ready to fight me, to make me go away. 

I thought he was hiding something back then… Now, I think he was just scared, and worried, and at his rope’s end. 

I still don’t like this. Not one bit. Out of all the people I could be spilling my deepest insecurities and issues to, Dev fucking Grimm is one of the last people… Hell, I’d even choose  _ Niall _ over him. 

I should go. I should walk away and forget this ever happened. 

But then, what would happen? Would that really fix anything? Would talking to Dev fix how I’m feeling? As much as he is an arsehole, he isn’t wrong. Talking to someone who really could not give a fuck may be better than doing nothing at all. 

After all, what do I have to lose in this situation?

Still… I need insurance...

“Not a word of this to anyone, yeah?”

“Do you want me to swear on my magic, Snow?” He sneers.

“If there was a way for you to…  _ ensure _ that you won’t go blabbing to Niall, then, yeah, swear it.”

Dev sighs and discreetly pulls out his wand (obsidian, tipped with amethyst), careful not to catch the eye of the barista, or the other patrons. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. Pointing his wand to us, he whispers, “ **_Cross my heart, and hope to die_ ** . I promise I won’t speak a word of this conversation to anyone other than you, Snow.” 

I rip my hand from his as his magic settles in. It feels very different from Baz’s, but a little similar as well. It still burns, but in a more acidic kind of way. My hand feels like there are a million pop rocks going off. I rub my hand and give him another glare.

That spell is only supposed to be used in extreme cases. We had used it once in America, before fully trusting Shepard, but other than that, I can’t recall another time I’ve seen it used. I wonder if Dev’s aware of the implications of using that particular spell. 

“You know what’ll happen if you break your promise…”

“I’ll drop dead, possibly in Niall’s arms, as he wails and moans over my absolute stupidity.”

“Why use that spell? You’ve not got a death wish, do you?”

“No. I rather enjoy living. What could be better than living without the worry of war on our heads, taking classes that actually interest me, and having a beautiful boy on my arm?”

I’ve known about him and Niall for a while now. In fact, I figured it out before Baz did. I think he was too worried about me, to really take notice of their relationship. They are such arseholes, even when they aren’t trying to be antagonistic. But together, they’re significantly less…  _ them _ .

I think that’s how I figured it out. The few times I had seen them, they were less focused on Baz and myself, and more focused on each other. 

Kind of like how Baz and I were… before everything. 

“Maybe it’s time you sat down, so that we may begin our chat.”

I snap out of my head and take my seat, facing Dev. I play with the scone in front of me. I’m not feeling all that hungry, to be honest (which I feel is truly saying something). Dev doesn’t seem to care all that much, and continues to sip his coffee. 

After a few seconds, he sets his coffee down again and clears his throat.

“You know, Niall and I were angry with him, when we found out you two were together.”

I let out a small snort. None of that surprises me, actually. Baz had told me how Dev and Niall gave him hell during the Leaver’s Ball. I told him to ignore them and that they could go fuck themselves, but Baz was disappointed by their reaction. He told me that he had let his friends slip through the cracks and wanted to patch things up with them. 

Not that Dev or Niall ever fucking tried… It was always Baz texting them, calling them, making plans with them. I knew it was because of me… That they didn’t want me around. 

“Right… Well, you’ve made that pretty fucking clear.”

“He didn’t tell us that things had changed between the two of you, and then we barely saw him after the holidays.”

Guilt washes over me. Baz neglected his friendships because he was too busy taking care of me. It was one of our biggest arguments after… after Christmas. I told him that he needed to spend time with his friends, to not forget the life he had before me. 

He kept telling me that he’d barely had a life, but I know he was full of shit. I knew he cared about Dev and Niall. He was just such a self-sacrificing tosser that he pushed everything else aside for me. 

I truly didn’t deserve him.

(I still don’t) 

“That… That wasn’t my fault. I didn’t  _ want  _ him to just abandon his friends!”

“No… I reckon it wasn’t… Baz has always marched to the beat of his own drum. Niall and I love him and support him, but you know as well as I that once he makes up his mind about something, it’s nearly impossible to sway him.”

A laugh comes out, but it sounds more like a sigh than anything else. I think about Baz again, and how he really is one of the most hard headed people I know. 

“To be honest, Snow, Niall and I were also angry because we were worried about him. I mean, you were both supposed to kill each other. We all knew that.”

“I never would have killed him…” I barely whisper. I don’t want to think about how things used to be between Baz and I, let alone talk about it. I never would have killed him, I know that now. I can’t even imagine hurting him…

Yet here I am… hurting him everyday. Hurting him by dragging him along, instead of letting him go. Hurting him by forcing him to chase me throughout America, getting sunburnt and shot at. Hurting him because I’m preventing him from rising to his full potential. 

I’m hurting him by not actually breaking up with him, and for being selfish. I’m making things worse by thinking I can just keep avoiding him like this.

“Right, well we didn’t know that then, did we? We thought you both hated each other.”

“Well you were wrong… clearly.”

“Clearly…”

Dev stays quiet after that, focusing on his coffee and croissant. He adjusts the watch on his wrist and examines his fingernails. He’s either purposefully wasting time to get under my skin, or he’s seriously wondering where to take this conversation.

“So tell me, Snow. Do you still hate Baz?”

If I’d been drinking this flat white he’d given me, I’d have spit it right out. I’m taken aback by the question. Clearly he doesn’t really think I still hate Baz? Not after all we’ve been through. Then again, has Baz spoken to his family about us? 

When was the last time Baz even saw his family? When was the last time they saw him happy at all?

I look down. Fucking Dev… I contain my anger at the question and instead really think about how I feel about Baz. 

Do I hate him? Of course not! This isn’t about whether I love him or hate him. It’s about what’s right and what’s wrong. And right now, I am wrong for him on so many levels. He’s not the person he used to be back at Watford, and I did that to him. He’s sad, and miserable, and nearly killed himself in America… all for me. All  _ because _ of me. 

This isn’t about hate or love or anything else. I’d give Baz everything… everything he deserves. And right now, what he deserves is freedom from me (I’d only keep dragging him down). 

“It doesn’t matter how I feel about him.”

Dev scoffs as he takes another small bite of his croissant. 

“I’d beg to differ. It matters a whole lot to Baz.”

I think about Baz again. Kind, brave, gentle Baz. Baz, who sticks around with me only because he’s obligated to. Baz, who will make sure that I’m protected because I’m too useless to take care of myself. 

Baz… 

Baz…

Baz, who told me that he could never be happy anywhere without me.

He doesn’t know better. 

And even if he did, his own stubbornness to not walk away from something prevents him from moving on. He won’t make the move to throw in the towel. Everything about him tells me that. Nothing Dev says to me today will change what has to be done. 

“It doesn’t have to.”

“Doesn’t have to?”

“It doesn’t have to matter to him. I’ve given him plenty of reasons to get up and walk away. But he won’t.”

Dev doesn’t say anything. He fiddles with the coffee mug, and takes another bite of his croissant. I take a small bite of my scone, but I really don't want to eat anymore. The room is feeling hotter now, and my legs begin to feel itchy. I don’t like this, talking to Dev. He’s making me feel… uncomfortable. Or, maybe that’s the unsettled feelings inside of me making me feel this way. 

“You have. You’ve given him plenty of opportunity to give up on you. But instead, he sticks around, following you into the fire,  _ literally! _ ” 

I growl at him, I want to punch that stupid look off his face, That look that tells me I’m worth less than the grime under his shoes. A part of me wonders how he knows about everything that happened in America. How much did Baz tell him and Niall? 

“He didn’t want to tell us, if that’s what you’re wondering, Snow.” 

I was, but I let him continue.

“In any case, he didn’t have to. Niall and I nearly didn’t recognize him when he came to see us. What with the bags under his eyes, and the scars. Niall had to practically spell him to sleep, before he broke down.”

I stop and stare at Dev. I think about Baz at the end of our trip. Tired, burned, and riddled with gunshot wounds (scars… but wounds all the same). He clearly needed the time away from me and all the messes I’ve forced him into. That’s all my life has been… a series of unfortunate messes and fuck ups. 

So much so, that I need a member of Baz’s fucking family to come and yell at me about the way I’ve wrecked his life —as if I didn’t already know that!

“Despite all of that, he was more worried about  _ you! _ He knew you would be off solving another magical emergency, and I think he wanted more than anything to be with you. Judging by how you look right now, I can’t say he was wrong to be worried.” 

There is a lot that I should take from his whole tirade, but I chose to pick at something that seems petty and unimportant. 

“Thought you didn’t give a shit about me.”

“I don’t… but I love Baz, and he…”

“He what?”

“Do you really not see it?”

“See  _ what? _ ”

“Fucking hell, Snow! He’s been in love with you since bloody  _ Watford!” _

I start to cough and choke on the piece of scone I’m eating. I think Dev is signaling the barista for some water, but I can’t focus on anything else but what he’s just told me.

It’s a load of crock, isn’t it?

Baz has never been in love with me. 

How could he have been?

He’s always hated me!

Hell, we were supposed to kill each other.

Then, we didn’t.

We kissed instead.

And we found out that we liked  _ that _ a lot better than fighting.

But was there more than that? I know I  _ wanted _ more.

But this past year, I think maybe I was fooling myself into believing that there could be more. That I could have more. 

I lost my magic, I lost my purpose in life, I lost everything and everyone that meant anything to me. 

I didn’t lose  _ him _ … but that was because I didn’t let him go. 

I still wanted whatever it was we had.

I’ve always wanted more than I could have.

All those years we fought… he could not have loved me then.

And if it was true, it was only because I was so powerful. I kept drawing him to me. Like a moth to a flame. He had no choice but to fall for me. My magic couldn’t have allowed any other option. 

No… he never loved _ me _ . He loved my  _ magic _ . 

It wasn’t love… It was infatuation. Nothing more than that. 

The barista hands me a glass of water and I start to down it. Dev is looking at me with a mixture of disgust and mild concern. He quietly asks the barista for a green tea, as well as a glass of water for himself. 

“Better, Snow?”

“You’re lying, Dev... “

Dev sighs heavily and pushes himself back against his chair, frustrated with this whole conversation. 

Well he isn’t the only one. 

“Crowley! How thick can someone  _ be?! _ Have you seen the way he looks at you? Have you seen the way he would brighten up, when you two were together?”

“It’s because of my magic...”

“FUCK your magic, Snow!”

I clench my fist, wanting to run away (or punch Dev). 

_ Fuck my magic? _

Fucking easy for him to say, considering he never had to worry about being without magic his whole life. He never had to live a life where magic didn’t exist. Neither he nor Baz know what it was like to have nothing, until magic came around. 

Now he’s here, all prim and proper and arrogant, telling me that my magic doesn’t matter? That my loss of magic doesn’t matter? 

My heart thunders in my chest, and I can feel my blood rushing to my head. I start to inhale sharply through my nose, trying to calm myself down (how many times have I had to do this before) (fucking Grimms). 

“The hell is wrong with you? Are you  _ trying  _ to run me off? Because it’s working!”

Dev rolls his eyes ( _ seriously!?)  _ and adjusts the sleeves of his blazer. The barista places Dev’s drinks in front of him. He asks her to bring a lavender tea as well. 

He clears his throat and takes a sip of his tea. “What I mean is… it was never about your magic. Besides, don’t you think he would have left you by now, if it was about your magic?”

That’s the whole point! He made a promise to me, and is too bloody stubborn and  _ good _ to go back on his word.

“You know how Baz is!”

“I do…”

“So you know that he’s the noblest person alive. He won’t leave me because he promised he’d stick around… through all this!!”

Dev sits quietly, which only pisses me off more. I want him to fight me. I want him to give me a reason to hit something, break something!

I want a reason to unleash all this anger I have inside of me. 

I want to  _ go off _ . 

Instead, he takes another sip of his tea and water, and takes another bite from his croissant. The barista brings us the lavender tea and Dev points to me ( _ arsehole _ ), and thanks her. She places the mug in front of me and leaves. 

“If you think that’s why he’s still with you, then you really don’t know him at all, do you?”

“Fuck you, Dev…”

“Only Niall is allowed to do that. But you know I’m right.”

“Fuck. You. Dev!”

“Have I hit a nerve? Good! Let’s run with that!”

My blood continues to rush. 

My head is feeling full and dizzy.

My heart still thunders in my chest.

I’m sweating, and my shirt feels tight against my skin. 

My legs are itchy. 

“It doesn’t matter why he’s stayed with me!”

Dev presses some more…

“Why the fuck, not?!”

My vision blurs. 

“Because he doesn’t… He’s… He’s…”

“ _ What is he, Snow? _ A monster? A villain? Crowley knows, you called him that enough times!”

No!

He’s not…

But I can’t find my words, and my heart won’t stop. 

My head is spinning again. 

And I don’t have to explain myself to Dev Fucking Grimm. 

I just… I just need…

I push my chair back and stand up.

“I’m leaving…”

“Right… Go on then. Run away from me, like you did Ba-”

And I don’t think anymore. Because my fist is now connecting to Dev’s face, and I hear a sickening crunch. I hear a growl and a curse word, and Dev is covering his face, blood seeping through his fingers. The barista is already starting to head over to us, when Dev discreetly pulls out his wand again. 

“ **_Nothing to see here._ ** ” He chants, blood spurting from his nose. The barista shakes her head, looks around for a moment, and continues to work, ignoring us completely. 

I snap out of the red. And the reality of what I’ve just done hits me hard. 

Shit… shit…

“Fuck! Dev… I...”

I reach out to him, but Dev holds his hand up. He points his wand to his nose.

“ **_Back to start!_ ** ” His nose starts to repair itself. That’s not an easy spell to do on yourself. Even Baz would have difficulties with that one. If you aren’t careful, you’ll revert back to an infant. Only mages who are well-practiced (or over confident) ever attempt that spell. I frown at Dev, and he raises an eyebrow back at me, wiping off the excess blood with a napkin. 

“I’ve been looking into the pre-medical programs, and working on healing spells. I’m hoping that I can work under Doctor Wellbelove eventually,” he says, gently this time.

I stare at my fists. I need to leave here. I can’t even think anymore. All I can think about is how easily I lost control. How easily I took my anger out on someone else.

I told myself I would never do that again. 

I would never be that violent unless it was absolutely necessary (like when dealing with vampires in Las Vegas, or goblins in taxi cabs). 

“I think things have gotten a little out of hand there, don’t you think?” he says. I can’t even look at him. I can only imagine what he’ll end up telling Baz…

“I’m not going to tell Baz.” (It’s as if he’s reading my mind). Dev dabs his nose with a handkerchief, and hums in approval when he sees that it is no longer bloody. “And I couldn’t even if I wanted to, the spell prevents me from doing so.”

_ Right. _

“Look, Snow. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I don’t think you’d listen, and I really don’t want to receive another clobbering.”

I wince.

“But you never did answer me on whether or not you hate Baz. If you do hate him, well then I can understand how you would just leave with no explanation, and just ghost him.”

I can’t look Dev in the eyes, but I don’t like listening to this. It’s not true. I don’t hate Baz… I don’t think I can ever hate him again...

Baz is…

He’s…

I don’t hate him…

“I don’t.” 

“Beg pardon?”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Well, then you owe it to him to talk to him.”

I grip the hot cup of lavender tea in my hands, until it begins to feel uncomfortable. I don’t want to talk about this. I rub at my arms, and run my fingers through my hair, tugging at the ends. 

I know I have to talk to him. I know I have to end it eventually. I just… I  _ can’t _ . I can’t give him up just yet. 

“I can’t… He’s… I mean…”

I continue to tug at my curls, I feel a nervous jitter vibrating down my leg. I need to shake it off, so I bounce it. I bounce it because I am so frustrated with myself that I can’t find the words, even if I’m talking to a person who literally will die if he says this to anyone else. I have zero risks here. 

Dev pulls me out of my jumble of thoughts. “He didn’t laugh as much before.”

I look back up at him, and he sips his tea, shrugging at me, as I frown at him. 

“What?”

“Baz. He didn’t smile like that before you two got together, or laugh that way. I mean, there was the occasional smirk and he’s always happy with his siblings. But you gave him something more.”

“Tosh…”

“Believe me, or don’t. But remember I’ve got nothing to gain by telling you all this lovey dovey bullshit.”

“That was before…”

“Do you think it was your magic that made him smile like that? Or your status as  _ The Chosen One _ ?”

“Yes! I do! He doesn’t smile anymore, does he!?”

“You bloody idiot! He fucking  _ misses you! _ ”

“I’ve not gone anywhere!”

“You haven’t spoken to him in  _ weeks! _ He thinks…”

Dev shuts up. I lean in. He chooses to look away from me, and suddenly becomes fascinated with the small advertisement on the table. I grab the placard away from him. 

“What? What does he think?!”

“Crowley… It’s a good thing I’ll die if this gets out, because Baz  _ may _ actually murder me for saying this.”

“For saying,  _ what _ !?”

“He thinks you resent him for having magic…”

I feel as if Dev’s delivered a punch of his own. I lean back against my chair and just stare at him. I’ve got a million and one thoughts running through my head, the loudest of them all, screaming at me that everything is just so wrong right now. That Baz and I have been running in this circle, completely misunderstanding each other. 

“How… how can he… I mean…”

“Tell me honestly, Snow, what is he supposed to think?”

“He’s supposed to… I’m not… I just…”

They’re right there… right on my tongue. 

_ I don’t want to lose him, but I’m not good enough for him. He doesn’t need me! He needs someone who isn’t scared to hold him, to kiss him, to LOVE him. He deserves someone better than me…  _

_ Not me… _

Dev doesn’t push me to talk (probably because he has better things to worry about), and instead drinks some of his water. 

“He needs to move on. He doesn’t need me.” I barely register myself saying that. I think I was hoping he wouldn’t notice me saying anything, but it’s out there now, my insecurities out in the open to Dev Grimm. 

He places his glass back down on the table, and leans over to me, his head resting on his clasped hands. His green eyes are staring deep into mine, and I start to get uncomfortable. 

“Now who the fuck are  _ you _ to decide that for him?” His words cut like ice. His gaze is piercing me. 

“He’s too… stuck on... “

“Listen to yourself, Snow! Who exactly are you talking about? Do you honestly think that Baz Pitch can’t make a decision for himself?!” 

“All he’s known is me…”

“All he  _ wants _ is you!”

Dev is shouting now, and I could swear that he’s ready to return the punch I gave him. Maybe he needs to do just that.

But his words strike me with just as much force. It seems like Dev is constantly dropping bombshells today.

Then again, Baz had done the very same thing, several weeks ago. I remember feeling like he had just backhanded me on that beach. I was left breathless, and without words. I was just… in shock. 

I don’t think I ever really thought those words through. I didn’t want to think about them. I didn’t want to think about anything, except that everything was wrong and that I needed to do something, because it was clear that he was never going to.

Dev takes a deep breath and sighs. 

“He’s not well, Snow.”

“What?”

“Baz isn’t well… He’s barely eating, he’s not sleeping. Crowley, Snow, Niall and I have been taking shifts, making sure he stays well fed and that there’s blood in his flat. It’s as if he isn’t really there, just going through the motions…”

A shiver runs down my back, and it suddenly feels like a hand is clutching at my heart. What Dev is saying, that can’t be right. I have never known Baz to just lie down and give up like that? Baz is a sharp, ruthless fighter. He’s strong, he strikes deep and hard, and without flinching. He isn’t afraid to attack coldly. 

And he’s not well…

And he needs Dev and Niall to take care of him, or he would just waste away. 

Baz…

I think about him, forcing my brain to picture him; tall and strong, raven black hair fluttering in the wind, grey eyes sparkling as he looks down at me. I allow myself to picture him leaning lazily against my door frame, long legs crossed over each other. 

Against my better judgment, I think about him now… I picture him, sad, defeated, bags under his eyes, and weary of everything.

My heart clenches. 

I want to reach for him and hold him close. 

I want to brush the hair from his face and kiss him tenderly. 

I want to tell him how sorry I am…

But, what I _ want _ isn’t what he _ needs _ . 

“That… that’s proof that he needs better… He’ll get better…”

My voice cracks just a little at the end, and I have to clear my throat. I shakily pick up my glass of water and gulp some down. Dev keeps staring at me, his head shaking in disbelief. 

“Crowley, Snow, haven’t you been listening to what I’ve been telling you?! He doesn’t  _ want _ anyone else! And that isn’t  _ your _ choice to make! He deserves some say in your relationship!”

Dev leans back against his chair and starts rubbing his eyes. I notice that he has some dark circles under them as well. I didn’t notice at first. He’s tired, and I think it’s only occurring to me now, that he wouldn’t have gone behind Baz’s back like this, if he wasn’t especially worried about him. 

He sighs, clears his throat and takes some more sips of his tea. 

“You know… Niall and I almost never got together…”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Dev ignores my question, “I didn’t think I was good enough for him. And during Eighth Year, I kept hurting him, and pushing him away. I didn’t think he deserved to be involved with my family’s issues and expectations.”

I sit up straighter. Dev doesn’t look at me, and I start picking at my cuticles and biting my nails. 

“I thought he would move on, find a better person to care about him. I thought he didn’t need me. I refused to believe that I was strong enough to love him. Until…”

“What?” I find myself asking him. It really isn’t my business how Dev and Niall started their relationship, but there has to be a reason for this story.

“We had a horrible quarrel… and I thought I had well and truly lost him. Then I started to think about never seeing Niall again. Never having him in my life again. Picturing him wrapped in someone else’s arms.”

I start to think again about Baz, especially about him being harassed by that devil-eyed goat back in America. I remember my eyes seeing only red, and viciously killing that bastard for even touching him like that. 

I think about Lamb, and how I wanted to throttle him for looking at Baz the way he did, for flirting with Baz right in front of me (yeah, I was invisible, but it was still in front of me). 

I think about Baz, in his flowery shirts, and tight jeans, dazzling and handsome, attracting the eyes of everyone around him, and I get angry… angry at the thought of someone swooping in and taking him away. I get angry at the thought of him batting his eyes at someone else. 

I can’t breathe when I think about someone else getting to  _ touch _ him…  _ kiss _ him. 

I can’t breathe, and I can’t think, and I need to leave again… 

My leg twitches and bounces beneath my seat. I need to get up… I need to move. I need to do  _ something _ to get out of this situation. 

Dev notices how uncomfortable I’m getting, and he pushes, yet again. 

“You need to think about this, Snow. Baz is not happy without you around…  _ Crowley  _ knows why. Judging by the way you’re squirming in your seat, I have reason to believe you feel the same way.”

I lift myself up from the chair, but keep my hands pressed tight on the table. 

“I… have to go.” I stammer out. I turn and start to walk away, but I hear Dev’s voice one last time. 

“Think about what I’ve said, Snow. If you are ready to let him go, forever, then fine. But he’s in love with you, and he’s fucking miserable without you. For  _ both _ your sakes, get over yourself and fucking talk to him!”

I practically sprint out that cafe, desperately gasping at the air around me. I bend forward, trying to catch my breath, hands on my thighs. 

My head is still spinning, my heart is racing, and my stomach is dancing a bloody jig. 

So I run. 

I run, and I run, and I don’t think about where my legs decide to take me. I just go. 

Blurred images crowd my thoughts as I dodge past teens walking and a mother pushing a baby pram. I hear distorted voices in my head as I whiz past children laughing, and old men cursing. 

I still run.

_ Do you hate him, Snow? _

Past a corner shop and another little cafe.

_ All he wants is you! _

Around the corner of a Primary school (I dodge some kids bicycling into the yard).

_ He’s not well, Snow. _

Through a block of flats, running past cars that are parked on either side of the road. 

_ He’s been in love with you, since bloody Watford! _

I stop.

I’m at a park. 

I know this park. 

I visited this park, several times with Penny, and once with Baz. 

Baz…

My face is wet. I look up, but the sky is clear and the sun is shining. 

I’m crying. 

And once I start… it doesn’t stop. I’m choking and sobbing, my hands grasping at my shirt. I can’t breathe. I need to talk to Penny. I need to hear her voice and for her to talk me through the jumble in my head. 

With shaking hands, I reach for my mobile and dial her number. 

She answers after two rings. 

“Simon! Thank goodness you called! Shepard has been driving me mad-”

I can barely register her through the sound of my sobs and gasps of air. Penny hears it to, because she stops almost immediately.

“Simon! Are you alright!? What’s happened?!”

Penny’s concern is so palpable, that I start sobbing even louder, sinking against an elm tree. 

“Penny! No! No... I’m not alright! I… I just! I…”

“Simon! Where are you?! Do you need me to come get you!?”

“No! No… I… I need to talk! Penny! I think I fucked up…”

* * *

I’ve decided not to run this time. It wouldn’t do well to show up all sweaty, and disheveled.

(Even though I'm already plenty disheveled).

I got off the phone with Penny almost a half an hour ago. I told her everything. About the secret meeting, about Dev Grimm showing up out of the fucking blue (and about me punching his stupid face).

I told her about the discussion we had. She pointedly didn’t say anything when I told her how Baz was doing. 

I think she already knew. 

Then I cried some more. I haven’t cried like that in a very long time, I think. Penny listened to me as I cried and spattered out nonsense and incoherent words. 

When I was done, she took a deep breath and asked me if I loved Baz. 

Amidst sobs and tears and pain, I remember squeaking out a weak  _ yes _ .

She then asked me if I can see myself happy with anyone else. And I had to think about that. It’s hard for me to picture any future for myself at this point, but if I were to have any sort of future where I could have just a semblance of happiness, one face comes to mind. It’s the same face I picture smiling at me. 

Baz. 

Penny asked me one more question. She asked me what it was I wanted to do, right now. Who did I  _ really _ want to talk to? 

The answer was obvious. 

And so, I’m walking towards Baz’s neighbourhood. His flat --thankfully-- isn’t that far away from the park, nor the cafe I had run from. 

I’m not that far away from his flat, but I stop before I can get any closer. I think about what I want to say to him. I feel a bit like a prig for not getting him something.

Maybe some flowers… 

Maybe I should have written all of my thoughts down on some paper or something…So that I wouldn’t lose myself in my head, and so that the words wouldn’t remain stuck on my tongue. 

I pace back and forth, a few steps from his flat. I’m just going to go, knock on his door, and ask if we could talk. I’m going to tell him, everything… I think.

I don’t know…

I shouldn’t be here. 

I need to go back home. 

This wasn’t a good idea at all. 

My mobile vibrates. 

I quickly check my phone, and see a text message from Penny,

**_Penny! :) (16:39):_ **

_ Now before you convince yourself that this was all a mistake, remember the three truths we concluded today: _

_ 1) You love Baz. _

_ 2) You can’t see yourself happy with anyone else… Only Baz. _

_ 3) The person you want to (and SHOULD) talk to is Baz! _

_ You can do this, Simon! You love him, and he loves you. You don’t have to solve everything today. You just have to talk…  _

_ And Stevie Nicks help me, Simon, if you come back without having spoken to him, I shall spell you both together so that you’re forced to figure this thing out! _

Fucking hell, Penelope!

I shove my mobile into the pocket of my jeans and walk up to Baz's complex. 

Baz lives on the fifth floor (no fucking elevator) with his aunt, who (thankfully) has been in Prague doing her vampire hunting thing (I never understood why she was so adamant about hunting vampires, considering Baz is one, but he’s just as ruthless with them, so I suppose it runs in the family). 

I go over what I want to say to him in my head as I climb the stairs to his flat.

_ Baz, I want to talk to you… _

I feel short of breath, as I climb the flights, one step at a time. 

_ Baz, I’m sorry for… everything. _

I stop about halfway up the stairs and start to panic. What if he slams the door in my face? What if he tells me to fuck off and that it’s too late to talk? What if all of this was some big cruel joke?

But no… He wouldn’t do that… And Penny with her silence, and Dev with his concern both tell me that Baz is suffering. 

I climb another flight of stairs. 

_ Baz… I want to talk. About everything. I’m sorry for being a terrible boyfriend. I’m sorry for not being enough… I’m sorry for being  _ _ me. _

I can feel the pricking of tears once more behind my eyes as I finally reach his flat. My fist hovers over his door. I look behind me, and think that it isn’t too late to turn around and walk away. He would never have to know that I was here. 

But I owe it to him --and myself-- to see this through. I won’t walk away from this… Not this time. 

So I knock on his door. 

And I wait…

And wait…

And wait…

And start to panic… 

He’s not home.

He’s ignoring me. 

He’s with someone else.

This was stupid. 

I need to leave. 

I’m about to turn around, when the door whips open. 

“Simon...?”

My heart sinks to the floor as I look at him. Baz looks…  _ awful _ . His hair is tangled, and lanky, and tied up in a very messy high bun. 

His eyes look sunken, and the grey in them has dulled out a little (he hasn’t been feeding himself properly --like Dev said). They are also very red, with dark grey circles around them, and heavy bags beneath them. 

He looks exhausted… beaten… completely overcome. 

The clothes on his back --although they look very good on him-- look looser. I think he’s lost a little bit of weight (which is very concerning considering he’s already impossibly skinny).

“Baz…”

“Simon…”

And I don’t think. 

I pull him into a hug and just hold onto him. He stiffens against the hug, hesitant to accept it. 

It hurts to see him like this… to feel him like this. 

I have to make this right. 

I need to make sure he’s ok. 

I need to make sure he’s never this bad ever again. 

I start to sob against his shirt, still clutching onto him, even though he’s so subdued and silent. I want him to know I’m here. 

“Baz… I’m  _ sorry! _ I’m so fucking... I’m just… I’m  _ sorry _ … For everything… Y-you don’t! I mean…”

Hands slowly touch my back and tentatively run up and down. I feel him pressing a little closer to me and softly shushing me. 

I slowly pull away and pass my hand across his weary face. I give him a small, chaste kiss on his lips, and a strangled sob escapes him.

“Simon! I...”

“I don’t want to give up, Baz!” 

He looks up at me, his grey eyes looking misty and blurred. 

“Baz… I’m sorry… I want to  _ fight _ … For you. For… for  _ us! _ Please…”

Baz lowers his forehead to mine and nods as a tear rolls down his cheek and onto mine. 

“Ok…” 

And he leads me inside. 

**Author's Note:**

> #Let Baz Pitch Have Friends 2020
> 
> But in all seriousness, it is my firm belief that Dev and Niall truly do care about Baz and want him to be happy. I strongly believe that Baz had a life before Simon... He wasn't just a blank slate. He had friends... And if he's managed to keep the same friends for so many years, it's because they're true blue. 
> 
> Also... I personally dislike when the romantic lead in a story has no past before getting involved with the protagonist, and if Baz is supposed to be more than just the "romantic interest", well then he's gotta have a past... So... yeah.


End file.
